


Of Eros and Erudition

by thelxinoes



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, I know the relationship tags make you nervous, M/M, Reisi is a fussy English professor, Suoh is a non-traditional student, Teacher-Student Relationship, give this a try anyway, it's really Mikorei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelxinoes/pseuds/thelxinoes
Summary: Munakata Reisi is a dynamic English professor with a well-hidden and well-broken heart. Suoh Mikoto is a second-career college student who's more interested in his sensei than Shakespeare.Sparks fly, but Munakata-sensei's obligations keep him hesitant. Obligations, Suoh learns, which are of a deeply personal, not professional, nature.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. Thanks for reading. fei-ya suggested I re-post my student/teacher!AU to AO3. I thank them for encouraging me to do so. I hope you will forgive my inconsistent chapter length and any resultant choppiness. Since this was a tumblr series, it was updated randomly and the chapters are irregular as a result. Please also forgive any formatting and grammatical issues.

Reisi settled himself behind his desk, eyes glazing over as he attempted to make some modicum of sense out of an article he was editing. Try as he might, he couldn’t find it within himself to focus on the piece, instead allowing his mind to drift to his World Literature class and one student in particular. Suoh Mikoto was, by all accounts, a rather sharp analyst of narratives – certainly more incisive than the writer presently under review. That said, the man had failed his midterm exam. Reisi wondered what could have precipitated such a staggering downturn in performance. In his experience, the evidence pointed to personal troubles of some sort.

_I hope everything’s okay with him. He’s too bright to fail this course._

He took another sip of tea and attempted to marshal his concentration towards the task at hand. Eventually he became absorbed, wondering how his author could make Congreve’s scathing social commentary sound so unbelievably vapid.

 _It’s like she’s taken all the soul out of the story_ , he huffed.  _And if she uses the word “discursive” one more time, I’m going to insist that I’m never asked to review any of her drivel again_.

A sharp knock on the door startled him just as he’d commenced his annotations, marring his writing beyond all recognition and leaving an angry red trail across the manuscript page.

_It’s just as well. This paper is better utilized as an ink blotter. Or kindling._

He schooled his face into a polite smile. “Please come in,” he said, affect friendly and open. It wouldn’t do to vent his editorial frustrations upon a hapless student, after all.

“You wanted to see me?” the subject of his recent ruminations asked, bending his lanky frame into the chair before the professor’s desk without invitation.

Reisi ignored the discourtesy. “Yes. I’m concerned about your exam, Suoh-san.”

The other man merely laughed – a throaty chuckle that made the brunet mentally enumerate all the various professional ethics codes that governed instructor-student interactions.

Still, such a reaction to a poor mark was inexcusable, and rude to boot. “I fail to see the humor in your situation. You clearly put a great deal of work into the reading. Your class participation is stellar, in fact, even though you were initially reticent to speak. It’s obvious that you’re not lazy, so I’m surprised that you seem so sanguine given your exam score in relation to your effort.”

“Nah,” Suoh said, “’s not that. You’re just so proper. ‘Suoh-san’ and all. You can call me ‘Mikoto.’”

“ _Suoh-san_ ,” Reisi began, disregarding the other’s amused snort. “Given that you and I are comparable in age, I believe it would be inappropriate to address you informally.”

“Whatever you say, doc.” It was spoken in an unconcerned drawl, slow like honey and dripping with unmistakable invitation.

The brunet cleared his throat although the gesture did little to dispel the white noise of confusion and panic that had hijacked his mind. Was Suoh  _flirting_ with him? “It’s Munakata-sensei.”

A smirk. “Whatever you say,  _Munakata-sensei_.”

There was hellfire mischief in those eyes, a take-it-or-leave-it sort of dare, and in that instant, Reisi was assured of two things: the first, that his uncommonly attractive student was indeed hitting on him; and the second, that he  _liked_ it.  _I’m in so much trouble_ , he lamented internally.  _I shouldn’t have volunteered to teach this class. Nineteen year-olds are a safer demographic._ “Anyway, let us return to the topic of your exam. Perhaps you will find it intrusive of me to ask, but I’d like to know why you feel you performed so poorly.”

“Guess I didn’t study as hard as I could’ve.”

Reisi sighed. “That much was apparent, Suoh-san. I was inquiring after specifics.”

It was imperceptible, almost, but the mood changed almost immediately. Unexpectedly, the redhead’s languor disappeared, along with his mildly playful comportment. Instead, Suoh looked at his professor as though he were waging a war with himself, a silent storm brewing behind his honey-gold irises. He finally huffed as though resigning himself. “S’pose you’re not going to let it go, are you?”

It was the brunet’s turn to smirk then. “I can be quite stubborn, true. But you need not disclose anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.”

Suoh nodded. “Nothing like that. Only I’ve got a daughter.”

“A daughter?” Reisi felt the disappointment before he registered what such an emotion signified.  _A daughter. I imagine he’s married, then._ He nearly gasped when that unhappy thought invaded his psyche.  _What the_ Hell  _am I doing here? Impure thoughts about a student during office hours; I should be terminated for such a lapse in judgment._

“Name’s Anna,” the other man said. “I adopted her three years ago after her parents died in a car crash. You’d like her, I think. Gifted, the school tells me.”

“I imagine I would like her very much,” Reisi agreed. “I am drawn to intelligence, as you no doubt surmised.”  _Oh, fuck. And now I’m hitting on_ him.

If Suoh caught the subtext of his instructor’s assertion, he gave no indication of it. He simply nodded and carried on with his explanation. “Anyway, she was sick. She had pneumonia and I was keepin’ an eye on her for a good week before the exam. Between that and work, I didn’t have much time for class stuff.”

“I see,” the brunet said carefully, already thinking of possible solutions. “And how is Anna doing now?”

“She’s fine. Back to school and everything.” Damn that smile, that lopsided quirk of the lips. It should be a crime to wield such a devastating weapon in Reisi’s opinion. “You’re the first of my professors who asked about her.”

“Well, you seem a very devoted father.”

“I try to be,” Suoh shrugged, but it was clear that he took pride in his relationship with Anna. “It’s hard trying to do everything at once, but she’s worth it.” He then flashed another one of those infectious grins.

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Every nerve in the brunet’s body was buzzing with energy, making his heart race and his pulse pound wildly in his ears. And if that wasn’t sufficient for Reisi to confirm that he was going to whatever circle of Hell was reserved for professors who abuse their positions, he was certain that the way the room became suddenly sweltering had secured his place there. “I suspect it is very difficult,” he conceded, voice betraying not one whit of the tempest that churned beneath his façade. “But I’d like to help you if I may. We can begin by having you re-take your exam.”

“You’d do that for me?” Suoh asked, eyes huge.

Reisi nodded. “My policy is to allow students to re-take their exams in the event of extenuating circumstances. An ill daughter definitely qualifies.” He paused. “But you should know that I tend to grade these make-up exams more rigorously since you’ve had extra time to prepare.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Let’s schedule it for next week, then. I will email you with a list of available times.”

Suoh nodded before unfolding himself from his chair. “Thanks, doc.” He stretched lazily and rubbed the back of his neck, all the while making his professor search frantically for anywhere to pin his attention but on the taut expanse of flesh just visible where the redhead’s shirt rode up.

“No problem,” Reisi said, maintaining his cordial expression just long enough for the door to close behind what would doubtless become his need for therapy.  _It’s going to be a long semester._ He dropped his head to the desk and closed his eyes, willing the heat in his body to subside so that he could resume working.

Naturally, the door jerked open just as he had managed to convince himself that he’d been unusually susceptible to Suoh’s charms. He’d just spent the last hour reviewing that awful article and his mind was slightly addled as a result. Yes, that’s exactly what had happened.

“Hey, doc?” Suoh began – and then he noticed that Reisi was face-down on his desk. “You okay?”

“Fine,” the brunet said, straightening up and regaining control over himself. He performed his most winning smile. “I’m fine. Was there something else, Suoh-san?”

“Uh, yeah. I was wonderin’ if I could bring Anna with me to class some nights. It won’t be every night, but I don’t like leaving her alone too much.”

“I’d be delighted to meet her.”

“Thanks.” And then, finally, he left, leaving a discomposed instructor to obsess over the fact that he was indubitably, irreparably, oh-so-royally  _fucked._

.

.

Mikoto ambled along the Literature Department’s long corridors at a slower pace than usual, ensuring that Anna managed to keep up with his long strides. He’d come to campus to take Munakata’s make-up exam. Typically, he’d have left his daughter with her sitter, a loud but dependable neighborhood kid named Yata. But apparently, Yata had recently come down with the flu and given that Anna herself had just recovered, Mikoto refused to chance another infection.

“Will you get in trouble for bringing me, Mikoto?” the petite beauty asked, clearly concerned.

“Nah. Munakata even said he wanted to meet you. Trust me, you’re probably doing him a favor. Hanging with a twelve year-old would do him some good.”

Anna merely nodded and took in her surroundings, hand interlaced in her guardian’s. She was a quiet child but exceptionally bright and he had no doubt that she was in awe of the glass bookcases and various announcements that littered the halls. “I like it here,” she said softly.

“Good.”

Arriving at his destination, Mikoto knocked and waited to be received. It was interesting, he thought, the subtle buzz of anticipation that made him feel a bit on edge. Like exam jitters, except he’d never felt thusly towards any exam he’d ever taken in the entirety of his educational career. But there was something about the dazzling brunet who taught his World Literature class that made him want to  _impress_. That was the most frustrating thing about Munakata, really – how he compelled the redhead to act so unlike himself. Well, that and his propensity to bite his bottom lip when he was deep in thought, but  _that_  was a frustration Mikoto could live with. For now, at least.  

“Right on time,” Munakata said as he opened the door. For the briefest of instances, his eyes widened as they landed upon the redhead’s companion. But he recovered quickly. “You must be Anna,” he said, dropping down to introduce himself. “I’m Reisi.”

“Reisi,” the little girl pronounced.

Mikoto merely huffed. “Whatever happened to ‘Munakata-sensei’?”

Munakata’s smile lengthened, but the redhead was sure there was a great deal of sincerity in it. After all, those vibrant irises sparkled with the same intensity as they did when he was talking about a piece of literature that he particularly loved. “I should hate to be so formally addressed by such a lovely guest,” he said smoothly, making Anna blush and seek refuge behind her guardian.

“Are you saying I’m not lovely?”  _Fuck._ The words spilled out of his mouth before he’d considered the dangers of flirting with your professor.  _This could be bad._

Munakata tipped his head, regarding Mikoto thoughtfully. The appraising stare made the redhead feel quite like an insect under a magnifying glass – including the danger of being incinerated. No doubt his instructor was weighing the trespass and wondering whether or not he ought to pursue any action. In the end, he shook his head lightly and sighed in resignation. “’Lovely’ is not the word I would use, Suoh-san.”

It took every inch of Mikoto’s very limited self-control not to ask what words his sensei might use instead to describe him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, all things considered.

“Anyway, I don’t think Anna is here to provide you with outside assistance on your exam, but rules are rules, and I cannot allow her to accompany you into the exam room.” Once again,  _Reisi_ turned his attention to the child clinging to Mikoto’s hand. “Would you like to have tea with me, Anna? I think I have some puzzles or games that we could play while we wait for Suoh-san to finish his test.”

The redhead could feel his ward’s hesitation. It was there in the minute tightening of her hand, but Anna was never the demanding or troublemaking sort, so she nodded and followed Munakata into his office.

“Where am I supposed to take my exam?” Mikoto asked, feeling apprehensive about leaving his daughter with a veritable stranger.  _Does this guy have any experience with kids? What if she burns herself on the tea or something?_ He fought back these stray thoughts. The man in question wasn’t incompetent by any imaginative stretch; surely he’d keep her safe for a few hours. And Anna was smarter than most adults, so she’d know to look out for herself as well.

“Ah, the Department Secretary will be proctoring for you. It’s Room 104, just down the hall.” Here, he turned again to the little girl who was staring wide-eyed at row upon row of meticulously arranged books. “Anna, Suoh-san will only be three doors away from us. That said, if you should need him, then let me know and I will take you to him, okay?”

Anna offered a shy smile. Mikoto, for his part, felt much better about leaving her in Munakata’s care.

.

Three hours later, Mikoto rose from his desk and stretched, flexing his cramped fingers and rolling his neck to release the tension that had built up there during the exam. He felt much better about this iteration of the test and was looking forward to taking Anna out to dinner. Stomach grumbling in anticipation, he took up his exam booklet and marched back to Munakata’s office, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came the polite reply.

Upon letting himself inside, he found his daughter seated behind the brunet’s desk in his fine leather armchair. Munakata himself was folded into one of the chairs typically reserved for students. The two were bent over a puzzle, steaming tea cups left abandoned as they gazed upon an almost-completed field of brilliant scarlet spider lilies.

The redhead wasn’t much into self-denial, so he was quite willing to admit that he was wildly attracted to his professor. It wasn’t until he heard Munakata gently pointing out the subtle contours of a puzzle piece to Anna, however, that he realized his feelings were not exclusively sexual in nature. He was drawn to the man’s brilliance, his charisma, the rare smiles he bestowed upon especially incisive comments or fascinating questions, the way he seemed utterly absorbed in his little game with Anna, as though keeping her company was a treasured privilege.

“How’d it go?” Munakata asked, jarring him from his thoughts.

“Better than last time.”

There was that smile again. That smile was going to be the death of him, Mikoto knew. “Good. I look forward to reading your thoughts.”

The redhead only nodded and handed over his paper. He looked to Anna. “Ready to go?” he asked.

She hopped up from Munakata’s desk. “Thank you, Reisi,” she said, carmine eyes shimmering.

“It was my pleasure, Anna.”

With that, the child took Mikoto’s hand and happily followed him out the building, swinging their joined hands back and forth in an uncharacteristically jaunty manner while she surveyed the beautifully-landscaped quadrangle.

“What’re you so happy about, hmm?” he asked, amused by her behavior.

Anna only looked up and smirked. “You  _like_ him, don’t you?”

“Hah?” Mikoto was absolutely certain that any answer he provided would be taken as confirmation of the charge. So he deflected. Literature wasn’t the only thing he’d learned from Munakata.

“I like him too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mikoto nodded at Izumo as he entered his favorite bar. Being a single parent meant that he had very little time to indulge in leisure activities, but Anna had been invited to a sleepover at the Sukunas’ place and without her quiet company, he’d grown bored in a matter of minutes. Amazing, truly. When he’d first filed the adoption paperwork, he felt ill-suited to being a father; now he’d grown so attached that he had to drive across town to see his old high school friend so that he wouldn’t give into the temptation to call her cell phone every twenty minutes.

_ I’m getting old _ , he thought ruefully.  _Preferring to spend my time with my kid. Never thought I’d see the day…_

“Hey Mikoto,” the bartender greeted. “Long time, no see.”

“Been busy with work and school and Anna, you know.” The redhead hung his jacket up on the coatrack next to the entrance and made his way over… and then he stopped in his tracks as he noticed a very familiar figure leaning over a stack of papers in the corner booth.

If Munakata noticed him, however, he gave no indication. Long fingers curled around his scotch glass as his eyes remained trained to whatever he was reading. Even tucked away as he was, completely detached from his surroundings, the man seemed to attract lascivious stares and whispered comments.

_ I should get him out of here before someone tries to harass him. _

Instead he strolled to the bar and ordered a beer. He could certainly post himself along the counter and make idle talk with Izumo in-between the latter’s serving of patrons, but it was Friday night… and likely to get busier as the night wore on… and his hapless professor was setting himself up for all sorts of unwanted drunken advances. He therefore decided to join Munakata. Hell, the guy had given him a break, right? The least he could do is look out for him.

_ Or I’m just shooting myself in the foot.  _ Well, yes, there was that too. He did so love to play with fire, after all.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the booth before Munakata. The raven-haired man looked up, and in that blink, Mikoto’s breath caught. In the low light, he was even more alluring than typical. Pale skin almost luminescent from the warm incandescence that Izumo favored for the décor, eyes so clear and prismatic that they resembled amethysts. Alcohol had imparted a soft blush to his cheeks and lips, and all the redhead could do was swallow thickly as he found himself subject to that penetrating glare.

“Suoh-san. Fancy meeting you here.”

Mikoto laughed. “Still so formal. Even though we’re not in class.”

Munakata adjusted his glasses.

“The owner of this place is a good friend of mine,” he answered, nodding towards Izumo.

“Oh, Kusanagi-san? He makes the best Old Fashioned in the city,” Reisi said congenially.

The redhead searched frantically for a way to prolong the conversation or to commence one, at any rate. He gestured to the papers under sensei’s hand. “What’cha reading?” he asked.

“I’m an editor for the  _National Literature Review_. I’m going over an article that’s been submitted for publication.”

“Any good?”

Munakata adopted that look again – the enamored expression that made Mikoto’s throat go tight and dry and suffused his thoughts with a gentle white noise. “Oh, it’s brilliant actually. It’s a post-colonial critique of the  _Gospel of Luke_ analyzing the phenomenon of demon possession. The author claims that exorcisms function to reintegrate once-dismissed members of society back into the communal discourse and therefore perform a sort of subvers—“ Suddenly he stopped, blinking rapidly and leaning back as though he’d just arrived upon an unpleasant realization.

“Well don’t stop now, doc. It’s just gettin’ good.” Granted, before he’d taken Munakata’s class, half of what had been said would have been utter nonsense. Now, however, he was deeply committed to learning all about whatever it was that made the other man look so rapturous. If that meant listening to this impromptu lecture, then so be it.

But the brunet only sighed softly and once again pressed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. “My apologies, Suoh-san, but it is terribly inappropriate of me to be out drinking with a student.”

Of course. Leave it to the most up-tight individual Mikoto had ever met to resort to protocol just when things were going relatively well. “I’m not illegal or anything,” he spurted, knowing that the  _double entendre_ would land precisely as desired.

Anyone else would have missed it, but Suoh was paying rapt attention to his companion’s comportment. Furthermore, he’d always been good at reading people. So he caught the resignation and confession in sensei’s tone with little effort. “Perhaps not, but this is still inappropriate.” Munakata began gathering his things to leave.

Mikoto couldn’t help it. He was crossing a thousand lines, some of which could land him in very serious trouble, but he was tired of the way they were dancing around each other. He didn’t want to watch the other man walk away. He didn’t want to come back to class on Monday and spend all of lecture wondering what that pale skin would feel like sliding under his palms or how that inky hair would spill across his pillow. No one had ever accused him of repressing his desires, so he reached out and curled his hand around his professor’s wrist, fixing him with a heated stare. “Wait,” he said. “Don’t leave.”

Those violet eyes were drawn to the hand curled around his, but Munakata said nothing. He merely pursed his lips, no doubt ruminating upon this latest development. The redhead was half-expecting him to jerk away, but he remained, instead stilling all his movements. This silence prompted Mikoto to brush his thumb back and forth along the delicate skin on the underside of his wrist. Inappropriateness be damned.

Eventually, Munakata looked up, gaze level and almost warning. “I wonder if you’ve considered the ramifications of this,” he breathed. But he did not leave.

Mikoto offered a conciliatory smile, letting go of his captive and settling back against his side of the booth. “All I’m asking for is a drink. Nothing more.”  _Not yet, anyway,_ he mused internally.

The brunet nodded with some lingering hesitation. “A drink,” he repeated. “Fine.”

This unsure and vulnerable side of his ever-composed instructor was a welcome change. While the man always seemed in consummate control, right now he looked like a wary first date assessing his companion. The shift in comportment was intriguing, to say the least, and downright adorable. Mikoto knew that his thirst wouldn’t be slaked by one drink.

“See?” he said, still smirking. “I’m not so bad.”

“Yes,” Munakata agreed. “That may prove to be the problem.”

.

.

“A withdrawal slip?” Munakata asked, legs crossed and hands in his lap. He tossed an assessing gaze over his student’s form but revealed nothing of his inner thoughts. “Typically speaking, only poorly-performing students withdraw after the drop/add period has elapsed,” he intoned. “You’re doing quite well, Suoh-san. Are you unable to keep up with the workload?”

Mikoto grinned, all daggers. “Nah.” He hooked his knee over the armrest of his chair just for good measure. He knew how he looked, all sprawled out like that – like some sacrificial offering just begging to be devoured.

They’d shared a drink. One drink, just like the brunet said. And then Munakata excused himself, leaving a deflated and disappointed redhead to stew in the corner booth of Izumo’s bar and reconsider his plan of conquest. Mikoto had to hand it to the guy; the air between them was practically abuzz with electricity that night, and instead of coming home with him when he not-so-subtly hinted that Anna was at a friend’s for the evening, the man gathered his things and  _left_.

Suoh Mikoto did not get turned down lightly. Munakata Reisi was going to find that out presently. And if he had to drop his World Literature class to slake his own thirst, so be it. He could take another Humanities credit next semester. Sure, he’d be out of half his tuition, and he  _had_ put in considerable effort, and Anna wouldn’t get to attend lecture…

These thoughts were cut short by the delicate clearing of sensei’s throat. He raised a brow at his charge, expression hovering between amused and determined. “Then why, praytell, are you dropping my class?”

“You sound so disappointed, doc.”

“Hardly.”

Mikoto chuckled before unfolding himself from his chair and wandering towards his professor’s immaculately-kept bookcases. He pretended to peruse the selection there, more interested in stretching the tension to its limit than the volumes themselves. “I think we both know why,” he said, keeping his back turned.

Munakata stood and approached, sighing heavily and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s rather rude to hold a conversation with someone while your attention is fixed elsewhere.”

“Hmm,” the redhead purred. “Here I thought you didn’t want my attention.”

“Do be serious, Suoh. I can’t sign the withdrawal request without a compelling reason and so far you’ve given me nothing.”

Suoh _._ Well, it was better than the usual ‘Suoh-san,’ at any rate. But Mikoto was certain he could have the other man pronouncing his given name, preferably at the height of his pleasure. Yet, the fact that the brunet was acting oblivious to  _Suoh’s_  insinuations warranted desperate measures. Seeing an opportunity, he moved in a flash, herding Munakata against the bookcase and trapping him in place with his hands on either side as he pressed in close.  _Well, it’s too late to turn back now_ , he thought.  _Izumo would murder me if he knew about this._ And honestly, the recklessness with which he was courting an expulsion should have alarmed him too, but all he could register were the variegated hues of violet in the other’s prismatic eyes and the vexatious scent of something rich and velvety that he carried with him.

Instinctively, Munakata’s hands came up to press against his chest. “What are you—“

“I’m being serious,” Mikoto murmured, breath ghosting over the pale shell of his companion’s ear. “I want a withdrawal because you make me uncomfortable,  _Munakata-sensei._ ”

The brunet’s ensuing laugh was almost hysterical. “Oh,  _I_ make  _you_  uncomfortable? That’s rich, given that you’re skirting dangerously close to assault.”

Amber eyes were drawn to the tight line of sensei’s lips. They looked soft. Inviting. With a little coaxing, Suoh was sure they would open beautifully for him. He was close enough to kiss, close enough to touch if he were permitted. He just needed to push the tension to a breaking point. “Yeah. You’re always lookin’ at me like you’d love to spread me open on top of your desk and fuck me ragged. Makes me all hot an’ bothered. Can’t learn when I’m imagining you doin’ the same thing.”  _There,_ he thought.  _That should do it._

Breaking point, indeed. Before he even sensed the movement, Mikoto found himself with his face shoved against the shelf, long fingers splayed against the curve of his scalp. Munakata’s other hand twisted his arm behind his back and held it there, keeping the pressure tight, painful. It was in this position that he came to two seemingly-contrary conclusions: the first, that his ethereally beautiful professor was much more than he seemed; and the second, that he was unbelievably turned on. “Huh,” he mused, attempting nonchalance although the effect was somewhat diminished since his words were muffled against book spines. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“I’m a lot of things.” That heated tone sent a shockwave through Suoh’s whole body, making him jerk under Munakata’s grip. “On the other hand, you are a lackluster logician. Assuming that my training is limited to graduate school? That sounds like an unverified presupposition underlying your assertion. Poor reasoning skills proliferate amongst students these days; I consider it a point of pride that I help eradicate them.” Here he released his captive and brushed himself off, straightening his tie and leveling his student with a devilish stare. “It is for that reason that I cannot grant your withdrawal request.”

“Hah?” Mikoto nearly choked. This little meeting had taken an unexpected (and undesired) detour.

“It would lead to a terrible lacuna in your education.”

“What?”

But sensei only smiled the polite smile he reserved for the more inane comments he received in class. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very busy afternoon. I’ll see you in lecture.”

.

.

Reisi stood before the door and re-considered, for the third time, whether or not he ought to slip on the necktie that had been neatly folded and stowed in the inner pocket of his blazer.  _There’s no need for such formality_ , he reassured himself.  _It’s not a date._ Still, he’d been sure to pick out an exquisite bouquet of blazing spider lilies for his host and a bottle of quality wine for his host’s pet incubus.  _This is going to be more awkward than our annual department retreats._ He wondered how he’d managed to be so handily outwitted; it typically wasn’t his style.

Sighing heavily, he knocked on the door and adjusted his collar a final time.  _Not a date_ , he repeated.  _Definitely not a date._

Anna’s carmine eyes resembled glowing rubies as she opened the door. She smiled and curtseyed. “Reisi. Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said politely. He dropped to one knee and offered her the flowers. “These are for you.”

Her delighted gasp was cut off by a lazy, “Hey.”

“Suoh,” the brunet said, thrusting the bottle of wine at his student. “I see that you are most definitely not the exemplar for Anna’s impeccable manners.”

Mikoto merely smirked and took the gift, his gaze traveling over his professor’s form without even a trace of shame. “Wouldn’t want her to get all uptight, you know. Can’t be good for her health.”

“And what exactly are you implying?” Munakata hissed, leaning over the threshold as his eyes narrowed in unmistakable menace.

That only earned the already-harried instructor another smug chuckle. “C’mon. Dinner’s almost ready. Anna picked the menu and I cooked.” He ushered their guest inside as Anna trotted alongside them, still admiring the massive bouquet in her arms.

“Should I be worried about food poisoning?”

“Nah, can’t bake for shit, but I’m pretty good at main meals.” Suoh shot Reisi a knowing grin over his shoulder. “Didn’t take you for the sweet type anyway.”

The brunet tongued a rejoinder and swallowed his urge to cover Anna’s ears. The child was very perceptive and he wasn’t altogether sure that his student’s not-so-subtle innuendos  _weren’t_  being registered with all the clarity of an early morning church bell.

As they moved farther into the home, he was surprised to find it well-appointed though small. It was also very tidy. He picked up Anna’s distinct influence everywhere. Bookcases lined the living room wall and a dollhouse occupied a corner near the fireplace. Ribbons were laid out on the coffee table, no doubt from this morning’s sartorial decision-making. Reisi couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he imagined his gruff pupil threading the silk through Anna’s argentine hair. Lackadaisical he might seem, but when it came to his daughter, it appeared that Suoh was very much the responsible father.

They entered a kitchen where the redhead immediately donned a pink apron patterned with strawberries of various sizes – another of his daughter’s choices, no doubt. He removed lids from the pots on the stove, stirring intermittently and adjusting heat levels. “Hope you like pasta, doc. Chicken alfredo and Caesar salad with homemade Italian bread. I picked up some tiramisu from the bakery down the street.”

“Sounds delicious,” Reisi responded. “Why don’t we put these in water?” He took the flowers from Anna and removed a large glass vase from atop the refrigerator. “This okay?” he asked Suoh, who nodded in assent. Unwrapping the bouquet, he filled the vase with water before setting the arrangement in the middle of the table. Anna, of course, perched herself before the blooms and observed in quiet awe.

Now that he had accomplished whatever small stray task he could, the brunet felt discomfort return. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, watching as his student attended to dinner with an adroitness in his movements which bordered on elegance. It was confoundingly alluring and Reisi had to force his eyes away before Suoh sensed the weight of his stare.  _This was a bad idea_ , he thought.  _A very, very bad idea._ He had just begun enumerating all of the ways in which this evening could go wrong when Suoh spoke up, interrupting the dangerous inertia of his thoughts.

“Mind setting the table?” he asked, gesturing over to a stack of dishes and silverware.

Thankful to have anything at all to do, Reisi took up the task immediately. “I’m happy to be of help.”

.

To say that dinner was an uncomfortable affair would be a gross understatement in Reisi’s expert opinion. And he would know; academics were, on the whole, quite a socially inept and clumsy population. He’d sat through plenty of stiff meals with colleagues and administrators to have a keen appreciation for the phenomenon.

And this – this pregnant silence laced with anticipation that would never be satisfied – this had to be in his top ten list of most lumbering and painful dinners he’d ever attended. It didn’t help that Suoh’s leonine gaze was stealing the coherence from his thoughts before he could voice them. He’d been reduced to one-sentence replies and nervous twitching, all because of the desire, molten hot and heavy, burning in those amber irises.  _Pathetic. Truly pathetic._ Had he known he’d be so easily undone, he might have found the courage to disappoint Anna after all.  _He’s not the first person to look at you like this; get a grip on yourself._

“How’s the semester going, doc?” the redhead inquired after another minutes-long period of quiet. To be fair, despite the solicitation in his stare, even Suoh was having trouble carrying on a conversation. Granted, he was a man of few words, but that’s what might have made the situation so humorous were it not so cumbersome. Throughout the course of dinner, he’d attempted to ask Reisi about his editing duties, his in-process publications, his other classes, and even his committee work. It was evident that he was trying to keep his guest engaged, or at least project a sort of interest himself. Or both, perhaps. It was endearing, truth be told.

_ Or he’s just trying to fuck me. _

The professor could have smacked himself for entertaining ideations even tangentially related to sex. Now he was reliving the memory of Suoh herding him against his own bookcases and drawing closer, millimeter by torturous millimeter, his breath warm on the tender flesh of Reisi’s neck, his body solid against Reisi’s own and his lips—

“What will you be reading next in Mikoto’s class?” Anna piped up, obviously attempting to salvage their evening.  

“ _Lolita_ ,” he replied, relieved to be on more familiar ground. “I would say you should read along, but I’m not sure it’s age-appropriate material.”

Anna frowned slightly but eventually inclined her head in agreement. “Can we read something together, then? Me and you?”

A smile – genuine, this one. The first of the night. “Of course we can. I’ll think of something that we’ll both enjoy and we can start next week. Would that suit?”

The tiny blond beamed at him and he felt, in that moment, that maybe the whole evening wasn’t a complete waste. A partial waste, yes, but certainly not a total one.

“Hey, how come you don’t wanna read with  _me_  anymore?” Mikoto pouted.

Anna responded with a small shrug and resumed eating her meal. “Kids’ books are getting boring.”

.

By the time Suoh and Munakata had cleaned up, Anna had already gone to her room, presumably to finish her homework before bedtime. Now alone, the professor felt more wrong-footed and insecure than before. This sort of intimate contact between instructor and student was all sorts of inappropriate and while they’d not crossed any physical lines, Reisi did not wish to put his own restraint to test so often. He had a near-inhuman control over his own appetites, but even he could break given the right incentive – incentive like the devastating rake that kept tossing lascivious glances at him as he gathered up his things and made ready to leave.

Still, he allowed the other man to walk him out, turning to him once more as they stepped out onto the porch. “Thank you for dinner Suoh. I had a good time.”

The redhead only laughed and sparked up a cigarette. “No, you didn’t.”

“Please don’t speak for me. I—“

“You were as wound up as I was, admit it.” In this light, Mikoto’s leer looked almost predatory. It lengthened as Munakata instinctively stepped back. “You want it as badly as I do. Just own up to that and you’ll probably breathe easier.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Reisi scoffed. “If anything, it would make things even more troublesome, having incontrovertible evidence for what we can only guess at presently.”

It happened so quickly that he barely had time to react. The part of his mind that wasn’t hijacked was amazed at how nimble the redhead could be when the situation demanded. Certainly, the man looked like he spent all his time laying around on couches and library tables, but he moved like shadow – quick and soundless. The next thing Reisi felt were bricks grating against his back through the wool of his jacket as he was slammed against the wall, Suoh’s cigarette discarded and his lips slanted against the brunet’s own. One touch, and the spider’s silk of control he had always commanded broke. Every hesitation, every second-thought, every instinct for self-preservation scattered as he reached up to tug sharply on fiery hair before nipping at Mikoto’s bottom lip in petition. Once granted, he slipped his tongue into his mouth, sampling him from the inside out and committing the taste to his infallible memory.  _Salty but sweet. The smoke of cigarettes. The bitterness of wine. And heat._

“Fuck,” the redhead groaned as they broke, his hands slipping underneath Reisi’s jacket and interlacing at the small of his back. He was dazed, eyes slipping dizzy as he leaned in to suck on his instructor’s earlobe before trailing scorching kisses along his neck and biting sharply at the exposed part of his collarbone. “Come back inside,” he murmured, promise lacing every syllable.

And that, unfortunately, was when Munakata- _sensei’s_ higher-order functioning returned to him. He pulled away, and while he was horrified at what he’d allowed to happen, the emotion that he felt most keenly was guilt. Shaking his head, he leaned it against Suoh’s shoulder, hands slipping to rest against his chest. “I can’t.”

A frustrated growl escaped Mikoto, but he drew Reisi closer regardless. “Sign the goddamn withdrawal slip, will you?”

“It’s more complicated than you being my student. I’m not available, not completely anyway.” He pulled away with a broken, defeated smile. “I should go,” he whispered, already making for his car before he could be persuaded to remain, either with words or more ill-timed kisses.

Reisi was a fair distance away when Mikoto broke his knuckle against the wall of his own house.

Anna, however, was very much awake.

.

The phone rang out five times. Reisi was just making to hang up when his brother picked up, voice rough with sleep. “Hey,” he said, concern filtering through the headset. “It’s late. Are you okay?”

Tipping the rest of his fourth glass of scotch into his mouth, the younger brother offered an honest, “No.”

“What’s up?” A pause. “Are you drinking? On a  _school night_?”

“Hmmm,” Reisi affirmed, inhibitions brought to naught by the alcohol. “Smoking too.” As if to demonstrate, he blew out a long breath of smoke.

“You’re going to hate yourself when you have to listen to crappy undergraduate analyses of your favorite books in the morning.”

“Probably.”

“Gonna tell me what’s going on?” Taishi queried. Reisi could hear him sliding out of bed and padding down the hall in their parents’ large traditional-style home. Doubtless he did not wish to wake his wife or children.

“I’m interested in someone. Exceedingly interested in someone,” the younger said. “At first, I thought it was a simple physical attraction. I could live with that, I suppose. Hell, I even teased him for my own amusement. It wouldn’t present a problem in future, I thought. I’ve denied myself countless times. But now…” he trailed off.

“But now you’ve found someone who makes you want to trade duty for contentment?”

Reisi sighed. “Something like that, yes.”

Taishi’s tone was patient, not unlike the one the professor used with upset students who visited his office hours. “It was going to come to this point sooner or later.”

“I know, nii-san.”

“Then you have some kind of plan.”

“Naturally, nii-san.”

“I guess you’ll do what you must.”

“I always do, nii-san.”

“I know. I wish you wouldn’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

Reisi was not even a quarter through the stack of student reading responses he’d planned to grade that morning when his colleague Awashima Seri glided through the door, two steaming cups in hand. He looked up and attempted to school his features into some modicum of pleasant; Taishi had been right about how he’d feel come sunrise. He was so hungover that he was contemplating showing a documentary during his first lecture just to give his rational faculties an opportunity to make an appearance should they deign to do so.

“You look like… well,  _shit_. I traded your customary tea for coffee because you seem in need of the caffeine.”

Despite the headache pounding away at his temples, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Awashima Seri was one of the toughest professors in the department. She brooked no nonsense, neither from pupils nor coworkers. Her specialty was medieval, as were her pedagogical methods. That said, she was a favorite amongst students, mostly young men. Reisi supposed being extraordinarily beautiful might have helped in that regard, but her skills were never in doubt, not even by the most lovestruck of her admirers.

“Thank you, Awashima-sensei.” He took the proffered beverage and smiled. “You are, as always, much too kind.”

The blonde beauty only scoffed and folded herself into the seat before his desk. In an instant the levity vanished from her expression, icy blue eyes taking on a keener, more concerned cant. “I know the work’s been piling up with midterm season and your editorial duties, but despite that, are you okay?”

Honestly, he ought to have known she’d see right through him. She hadn’t made it this far in a man’s game without a sharp wit, after all. Reisi sighed and pinched his nose. “It’s not like you to be so blunt when you’re interrogating me. You’ve more subtlety than that.”

“It’s not like you to show up to work hungover. You’ve more class than that.”

“Touché.”

Seri crossed one long leg over another and fixed him with a stare that quite clearly said she would suffer no withholding English literature professors this morning. In fact, Reisi was quite sure she might violence him if he caviled any longer. It was with another sigh, therefore, that he relented. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time.”

“I’ve met someone. He’s brutish, pushy, foul-mouthed, unrefined, and doubtless a terrible influence on his adopted daughter.”

The other instructor pursed her lips as if she’d swallowed something mildly bitter. “Yes, I am intimately familiar with the type. Amazing how alluring they can be.”

“Hmm.” Reisi took a long sip of coffee before he continued. “Of course this wouldn’t be a problem typically, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship and I’m not quite sure how to proceed. I keep thinking of his daughter, Anna. If it doesn’t work out, I fear that she will be devastated. Children often don’t understand why adults encounter relationship problems. Furthermore, we’re so different. I can’t imagine that he’d enjoy spending his evening at a symphony or a lecture. And what about in future? I can’t imagine he will want to keep his current job forever. What if he chooses to move? There’s also—“ He stopped, noticing that Awashima’s eyes had gotten narrower and narrower as the words uncontrollably tumbled forth from his lips.

She tilted her head, regarding him. “I don’t think any of those are your real problem. It seems to me that your  _real_  problem is that you cannot predict and plan for every eventuality when it comes to this relationship. The uncertainty troubles you, I suppose.” Sampling her drink, she thought for a moment before adding, “It’s one of your more admirable qualities – that ability to stay one step ahead of everyone else. But it’s not a skill one can apply universally.”

Internally, Reisi breathed a sigh of relief. His confession was just close enough to reality to satisfy his colleague without giving too much away. Naturally he could not tell her the full truth; apart from the scandal of Suoh being his student, there was the matter of Jin to consider. He was mulling over all of these issues when his guest stood and made her way to the door with a wave.

“See you at the Committee Meeting,” she said.

“Awashima, I wonder if you might ask a particularly selfish favor from you,” Reisi forced himself to say before he changed his mind.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind taking up my evening class tonight? I have some personal business that I should attend,” he replied. Not a lie, per se, but not a complete disclosure either. “I will make adequate compensation, I assure you.”

Her ensuing smile was the warmest Reisi had ever seen. “Let me guess. It has to do with this uncouth boor you’ve met.”

“Something like that.” One day, he’d tell her everything, he promised. One day. But not today.

.

.

Reisi stopped before the door, taking several deep breaths before letting himself in. Silence engulfed him as he crossed the threshold, the only noise coming from the steady, mechanical whirring of the ventilator and the intermittent beeping of the various monitors attached to his lover’s emaciated frame. Habari Jin had once been a young detective destined for brilliant career in the police force before a gunman’s bullet turned him into a shade of his former self. Reisi had lost it all in less than a second.

The first several weeks were a blur, and even now, he could not recover those memories. The days had passed in a haze of cigarettes and sedatives. Without them, he’d wake to ghostly arms wrapped about him in the middle of the night. It was better to self-medicate than to torture himself with sensations he thought he would never experience again. Even the work he so loved could not provide sufficient distraction. He took a sabbatical; Awashima was hired and taken on permanently once he returned. For a while, he thought about moving out of their home, but what if Jin should wake and learn that his own bedmate had forsaken him as dead? So he stayed, maintaining their house and attempting to piece one life together from the shattered remains of the two that were shared there.

Reisi had never have believed it before, that suffering eased eventually. But in time the aching sorrow lessened. Everything no longer reminded him of Jin. His life had become his again, though traces of melancholy lingered like fragile current in the air after a thunderstorm. His nightmares faded slowly into memory. Passion waned, too, and its dissolution happened so subtly that the professor didn’t notice it had gone until he felt familiar fire ignite under his skin for someone else. The guilt attendant to that particular revelation was so strong he’d gone straight home to empty his stomach into the toilet. He couldn’t eat for days afterward.

His daily visits to the hospital became weekly, and then monthly. While coming here wasn’t exactly an obligation, he knew whatever love he’d once felt for Jin had also diminished greatly. He still loved the man, yes, but after so long, it was a love predicated upon who they  _both_ used to be – young, a bit naïve, ambitious, and reckless (well, Jin was). Trusting of the world and not yet broken upon the shores of its cruelties. Reisi could never have his partner back. He was no fool; he knew that. But neither did he know that he could let his first love go.   
  
It’d had been nearly two months since his last visit and the very thought alone made his stomach knot in remorse. Even before his indiscretion with Suoh Mikoto, he’d been in the wrong. He’d been  _every_ kind of wrong.

“It’s so heart-breaking, seeing you like this,”he said to the other man, slipping his hand into one that was too bony, too cold – too unlike the warm, reassuring presence it had given long ago. “I say that every time, but it’s no less true today than it was three years ago.” He shifted his gaze. “You were so  _alive._ This stillness doesn’t suit you at all.”

_ It’s better-suited to me,  _ he mused.  _I’d rather it were me._

Banishing that especially dark thought, Reisi stood and discarded the almost desiccated bouquet of flowers left at Jin’s bedside. They’d been brought by his mother, no doubt. Habari Miyoko had always demonstrated exceptional taste. He refilled the vase with clean water and arranged his gift of white roses so that they received enough sunlight. “Much better,” he said.

Once again, he sat down and took the other man’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. “I miss you.”

He was used to spending the rest of his visit in absolute silence, reminiscing and brooding in equal measure. So he was rather surprised when he heard Taishi’s unmistakable tread getting closer. The elder Munakata poked his head through the door, giving his sibling a sheepish grin before muttering an apologetic, “I knew I’d find you here. Can I come in?”

Reisi nodded. “Of course. He’d like to know you were here, nii-san.”

Taishi took the chair next to his brother. He regarded the form of the young man they’d known so well for so long. A rare grief crossed his eyes. “I miss him too, you know.”

“I know.”

A bracing hand came to rest on the younger’s shoulder. He gazed into amethyst eyes, clearly steeling himself for an unpleasant conversation. “I miss him, Reisi. But I miss you too.”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m right here.”

Taishi shook his head. “No. You’re not. You’re in the past. You’ve been stuck there so long that no one can reach you. Not even kaa-san.”

“Nii—“

Taishi made stalling gesture. “Let me finish. You always do all the talking. Now listen to me, hmm? Jin wouldn’t have wanted this for you. Miyoko-san doesn’t want this for you. They’d want you to be happy, to move on. They’d want you to  _live_ , otouto.”

“How trite. I suppose next you’re going to tell me that time heals all wounds?” He did not intend for it to sound so resentful.

The elder offered a sad, broken smile that looked more like a grimace. “No. But I think you should speak with Miyoko-san. She dropped by to buy some maples today and asked me to pass along an invitation to tea with her at noon tomorrow.” With that, Taishi rose and slipped out the door.

Reisi, on the other hand, could not bring himself to leave until well after midnight.

.

.

Flowers, Reisi knew, had a language. When he was younger, he’d made a point of learning its intricacies in order to speak to his lover in a full array of color and splendor. Amaryllis to signify a worth that is beyond the superficial, a beauty more sublime than the aesthetic. Camellias to convey sincere admiration. And of course, roses for deep and abiding love. But what flowers to choose for the mother of his comatose lover, Reisi had no clue. Settling finally on a bouquet of white tulips, he paid the vendor and made his way to their favorite teahouse.

Habari Miyoko was a fascinating woman. Elegant and graceful, she gave the air of a timid and poised society lady. The fact that she barely reached her husband’s shoulder, even in high heels, made the illusion all the more convincing. A dainty wife. A doting mother. Reisi knew better. Miyoko-san was a petite spitfire, a small-framed furnace of wit and venom, and every manner of injury was infinitely preferable to crossing her. He remembered the day Jin brought him home to meet the Habaris. Miyoko-san’s interrogation of her son’s paramour utilized several techniques Jin himself used at work. When he returned to his own home, Reisi made a beeline to the liquor cabinet in hopes of relieving the tension that had seized his back muscles during her questioning. She’d taken a good eight months to warm to him.

Still, the professor rather liked her. Once she stopped intimating that he would suffer untold tortures if he should prove an untrustworthy lover. Joining her for tea had become a habit once Jin slipped into coma – though, admittedly, Reisi did not initiate such meetings as often as he felt he should.

“Reisi-kun,” Miyoko said, gesturing him to the seat on the other side of the booth. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” She frowned. “You’ve lost weight.”

That was the most frustrating thing about Habari Miyoko; like her son, nothing escaped her keen eye. “Yes, I’ve been ill lately.” Not a lie, considering he’d woken up with the sort of raging hangover that would sober up a dorm full of university students yesterday morning. He offered a reassuring smile with the tulips. “These are for you.”

Miyoko laughed – a tinkling, melodious sound that tugged at the brunet’s memory. How long since he’d heard her laugh? Too long. It had been too long since they’d had anything to laugh about. Perhaps that’s why he’d become so drawn to Suoh Mikoto. “You certainly know how to spoil a girl. Even one of my age.”

“Well, you’ve the charm to compel every indulgence,” he countered smoothly.

She smiled, albeit with a trace of sadness. “So young, you are. You shouldn’t be having tea with old women.”

“I’m not.”

A scoff. Miyoko gazed out the window, features wan, contemplative. A waitress brought by a steaming pot and two cups. Feeling rather wrong-footed at the change in mood, Reisi busied himself with their drinks, carefully filling his host’s cup and placing it across the table before taking his own. He ventured a tentative sip, casting about for a topic of conversation when she broke the quiet. “I suppose I ought not complain. I was the one who invited you, after all. You’re a dear for taking the time.” Her cloud-grey eyes alighted upon him and for a moment – entirely too fleeting – they carried the same luster as Jin’s.

Reisi’s heart stopped, but despite its stuttering rhythm, his voice was as steady as ever. “It’s always a pleasure, Miyoko-san. You should know that.” Here he paused, wondering if he should continue. “I’m ever pleased to see you, but I am wondering why you asked to meet two weeks before our customary date. Is something wrong?”

Miyoko reached across the table and placed her hand atop his. “Everything is wrong,” she said, conviction lacing her tenor and her stare. “And I’ve allowed it to go on too long.”

The brunet stumbled and blinked several times, taken aback by his companion’s frankness. “I’m sorry. I don’t quite understand.”

She sighed and patted his arm before folding her hands in her lap. “When Jin first expressed an interest in you, I was absolutely against it.”

“I remember,” Reisi said with a fond laugh. “Honestly, I’ve yet to comprehend your reasons for disliking me so intensely. Most people would agree that I’m a responsible and upright sort.”

“Oh, I never doubted your suitability,” she assented. “Only your capacity for affection.”

“Excuse me?” The professor sputtered.  He didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. Was she honestly insinuating what he believed her to be insinuating? Reigning in his freewheeling thoughts, he plastered a neutral expression on his face and inclined his head.

“You seemed so detached, so impervious to the vicissitudes of life,” Miyoko said. “I felt, at the time, that one so unflappable could never love my son as he deserved to be loved.”

Reisi nearly choked on his tea, his rage flared so quickly. “I assure you, I—“

“I know,” she whispered, once again taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. “I know that now.”

What was supposed to be a perfunctory afternoon tea had turned into an emotional whirlwind, and for the first time since they’d started having their little dates, Reisi wanted to be anywhere but in the presence of Habari Miyoko. He had no idea why she felt the need to dredge up the past. Now. Without warning or mercy. Did she ask to meet in order to rip open old wounds, to expose them to salt and gristle? Frankly, given the week that he’d just had, he was in no fit state to entertain her whims. He therefore searched for a way to end their meeting as swiftly as possible.

She must have sensed his discomfort. “I’m sorry, Reisi-kun. I expect you did not anticipate such a conversation.” A sigh. “The truth is, I called you here to apologize.”

“To apologize?”

“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For the past three years, I have allowed you to remain at Jin’s side, knowing the chances of his waking grow slimmer with each passing day. I have watched you kill off your own dreams and desires for the sake of your devotion. I’ve watched you choke off your own passions in the name of duty. And I’ve watched you resolutely give everything to a love that no longer exists.”

There, Reisi made to protest. Whatever else had happened, he still  _loved_  Jin, as pale a shade as that love was of the vibrant bliss that he once felt.

Miyoko merely waved him down. “I’ve permitted this for a number of reasons, and most of them are selfish. Perhaps I imagined having you near him would bring him back. Or perhaps I imagined that I could keep some part of him alive if your relationship remained frozen in time. I’m not sure anymore,” she said with a shrug. “But I can’t allow this to continue. Since Jin cannot free you himself, I am doing it for him.”

Stunned, the professor took several moments to gather his thoughts. He felt a number of things – rage, confusion, hurt, indignation, and yes, perhaps even a trace of relief. And yet… and yet… “Forgive me, Miyoko-san. I do not believe that you can make that decision for me.”

“Forgive  _me_ , Reisi-kun, but your relationship with my son ended three years ago. Even if he should miraculously wake now, he would need to focus on reclaiming his health, not on rekindling old flames.” Those grey eyes flashed with unspoken  _intent_.

It was no difficult task to read between Miyoko-san’s lines. Perhaps she was doing so in a particularly aggressive manner, but she was trying to extricate the both of them – Reisi  _and_ Jin – from whatever obligations they had towards one another. She was right, of course. Even if his lover recovered from his coma, there was no guarantee that they would pick up where they left off. The brunet had changed. He’d been too affected by the intervening years to behave as though they’d never happened. And what of Jin? Jin would be different, too. He’d be bowed by the damage wrought to his body and mind as he slept. There was no going back. There was no  _them_ , not anymore.

“If I refuse to assent still?”

She turned her gaze towards the window once again, lips tight and eyes closed. He did not need to see the tears in her eyes to  _know_  what she would say next. He knew and he could almost  _hate_ her for it. “Reisi-kun, we’re terminating life support. You  _don’t_ have a choice.” And then, so softly that he had to strain to hear, “I’m sorry for that too.”

.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Reisi hissed into the phone, slamming his briefcase down on his coffee table and deciding against doing work this evening. Student grades tended to suffer if he was emotionally compromised. Unless he was simultaneously intoxicated. But he didn’t feel like drinking tonight. No liquor. And definitely no tea.

“I guessed.” To his credit, Taishi did manage to sound contrite.

Contrition wasn’t enough. Reisi was sufficiently furious to rend the heavens. In fact, he couldn’t recall a time in his life when he’d experienced such wrath clouding his mind and making his vision go red. It was a novel sensation, ire. Had he been in a more stable state, he might have found the whole situation rather interesting in a scholarly sort of way.

Not knowing what to say to his brother, he said nothing, dropping into his sofa and massaging the bridge of his nose. There were so many unfamiliar feelings rushing through him that if he absorbed one more ounce of intense emotion, he was sure the exhaustion would fell him completely.

“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out,” Taishi finally said.

“Yes, well, it’s been three years. I don’t know why Miyoko-san would choose now to… to…” he faltered.

“Because it’s been three years,” the elder offered. “It’s too long.”

Reisi sighed. The drama of the last week had finally caught up with him, it seemed. He was incapable of keeping up his façade of collectedness. It was too tiring to posture. In a moment of vulnerability, he related the very thought that had been plaguing him all afternoon. “What will I do?”

“Live. You’ll live.”


	4. Chapter 4

Mikoto strolled into  _Munakata-sensei’s_  office like he owned the place. The way he saw it, the man still owed him for kissing him as if his sanity depended on stealing breath from the redhead’s lungs and then skittering away like some startled gazelle on the Savannah. If that self-denying bastard thought calling him into office hours and trying to smooth things over was going to work, he was sorely mistaken. As such, Mikoto would ensure that Munakata was made aware of his missteps.  _Well_  aware.

“Ah Suoh, close the door,” the brunet said. “Please be seated.” He gestured politely to the seat before his desk.

“Nah, I’ll stand.” Mikoto opted to lean against the bookshelf and look down at his English instructor. “’s a better view.” No, he was not going to make this easy in the slightest.

Munakata’s eyes narrowed, but his ever-placid smile remained firmly in place. “I have a few things I would like to discuss with you.”

“What a surprise.”

A delicate clearing of the brunet’s throat. “Awashima-sensei tells me that you were a bit of a nuisance in her class. Would you care to explain yourself or should I assume that you are incapable of maintaining some semblance of decorum when Anna is not present to babysit?”

Mikoto smirked. “Nuisance? Just asked why you weren’t around. Maybe I was concerned about your health.”

Sensei scoffed. “Right. And email seemed ineffective to you for what reasons?”

At those words, the redhead planted his hands on the desk and leaned in towards the seated man. He canted his head and offered a challenging, feral grin. “Didn’t think you’d answer. What with how you ran away from me like your ass was on fire the other night.”

“I don’t shirk my responsibilities,” Munakata said, eyes going hard like the gemstones they so resembled. “Which is much more than what I can say for you.” He then shoved a paper in Mikoto’s face – a pop quiz, administered by Awashima. A quiz he’d failed spectacularly. 

He’d known the correct answers, of course, but felt disinclined to supply them because he knew he could raise sensei’s hackles with all the wrong ones. “Maybe she doesn’t do it for me,” Mikoto said, licking his lips. “Maybe I can only perform when  _you’re_ the one in charge, hmmm?”

There it was – that flush that bloomed across Munakata’s cheeks. It never lasted more than a second, but a second was enough to know that he wasn’t the only one who felt the electricity crackling hotly between them. Instead of addressing Mikoto’s provocation, the professor turned the paper towards himself and began to read. “Wilde’s  _Dorian Gray_ illustrates what happens to guys who keep secrets. It tells the story of an up-tight, stick-up-his-ass guy who is in love with another, more handsome and charming guy and is too afraid to admit it because he thinks he’s not hot enough for the handsome and charming guy…”

“Technically, I’m not wrong. I think I should have gotten full credit for that one.”

Munakata made a frustrated noise and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes – eyes, Mikoto noticed, that looked far more tired than was their wont. Maybe he shouldn’t push too far, then. “Your awful prose aside, the question asked you to analyze Nabokov’s  _Lolita_.”

“You can’t win ‘em all, sensei.”

“Indeed,” the professor said, almost fully recovered from his irritation. “I realize that now. That’s why I’m giving you this.” With that, he slid another slip of paper across the desk.

Mikoto looked down and immediately flinched. It was a withdrawal slip. Signed. His breath caught in his throat. Naturally, he’d come here to have a bit of vengeance for the manner in which Munakata left him – aroused and unsatisfied. He expected that their visit would be par for the course, consisting of typical banter coupled with sexual tension. He never expected  _this_. This was tantamount to Munakata giving up and Munakata wasn’t the giving up kind. Mikoto didn’t need to sleep with the man to know that. “So what? You’re throwing me out of class?”

“Suoh, I believe it was you who wished to withdraw from the course.” It was said with an infuriatingly calm expression.

“Oh, and  _now_  you’re letting me? Now, after everything that happened?” Mikoto found himself enraged at the bald hypocrisy of it. “ _You’re_  getting uncomfortable, so you’re going to push me out of class and pretend like nothing happened between us.”

“That’s not—“

“Well, doc, that’s just so  _fucking_ professorial of you. Congratulations.”

“Please watch your language.”

His  _language._ After all that had transpired, Munakata was worried about his  _language? “_ Fuck you.” He grabbed the withdrawal slip and turned on his heel, intending very much to stomp out the door and slam it with such force that it came off the hinges. The redhead would have happily destroyed University property, too, had he not felt a gentle grip around his wrist.

“Suoh, wait.” Munakata’s tone was soft, almost apologetic. Almost.

This was getting tedious. Mikoto wanted to get the hell out of here and punch a heavy bag until he couldn’t feel his knuckles anymore. He could pretend it was his professor’s face, even. “What now?”

“I didn’t ask you to withdraw because I’m trying to forget you and Anna,” Munakata said. “I asked you to withdraw because I can’t ask you to dinner if you’re still my student.”

“Hah?”

.

.

Flowers, Mikoto knew, had a language. But he’d be damned if he had any idea how to speak it. Still, he carried a bouquet of red roses, peach tulips, and white carnations in his arms. It was massive and stupidly heavy; maybe asking Anna’s babysitter to help choose a suitable collection was a bad idea. In fact, Mikoto secretly suspected that Yata was always available to look after Anna because the kid hadn’t been on a date in… well, ever.

He stifled a smirk and knocked on Munakata’s front door, once again shifting the damn flowers into a more comfortable position.

His professor answered with utter amusement sparking his eyes. “How  _unexpectedly_ conventional,” he said, taking the flowers from the redhead and inviting him in. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Just let me put these in some water.”

“You brought some for Anna when you came for dinner,” Mikoto replied, showing himself further into Munakata’s home. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

“Well, I applaud the effort,” Reisi quipped. “Please make yourself at home; I’ll bring drinks.”

The redhead was in the process of doing just that. He ambled into the living room, shedding his leather jacket along the way and laying it across the back of the sofa. Munkata’s home was surprisingly  _lived in_ , he found. He expected modern, minimalist aesthetics with clean lines and monochromatic décor. Sleek, efficient – much like the man himself.

Instead, the living room was airy and bright – vibrant blues and yellows coming together in a rather quaint and almost cozy manner. Books lay everywhere. Munakata had glass-fronted bookcases along the exposed brick walls, but he also had volumes stacked on the coffee table, the side tables, atop the fireplace and even beside the television. The piles were neat and precise, of course, but the tiny evidence of humanity, of imperfection, was deeply endearing to the redhead.

“You need more shelves,” Mikoto said, smile broadening as he stepped up towards the fireplace to take a look at the titles. “I can build some more of these cases if y’want.”

Reisi called from the kitchen. “I’m afraid I don’t have any free wall space.”

“Guess you need a bigger—” and then he stopped short. In the middle of the mantle was a solitary picture. Munakata was there, off center, arm slung around another man. The other was tall and lean, with pale skin and grey-blue eyes. His long black hair fell in a spill across one shoulder. He was attempting to push it behind his ear while Reisi pressed a kiss to his cheek. The stranger seemed somewhat camera shy, a blush adorning his face while he averted his eyes from the photographer’s gaze. Both men looked deliriously happy. And Munakata – well, he looked downright unrecognizable. Mikoto had seen a dozen of the man’s smiles, sickle sharp and concealing untold secrets. And when entertaining Anna, the brunet smiled with kind indulgence. Sometimes he was triumphant, especially when students put forth particularly incisive comments in class. But Mikoto had never seen his professor smile like this– carefree and innocent, like the heavens had crafted the emotion of joy solely for his benefit.

“Ah,” Munakata said, sidling up to Mikoto with whiskey in tow, “That was taken on our anniversary. Nearly four years ago.”

Mikoto turned to his companion. No one had been watching sensei as closely as the redhead, so he realized immediately how the man’s smile turned plastic, how his eyes lost their customary luster. And then he remembered what his professor had said to him that night on his porch, before skittering away in some odd combination of fear and guilt. “Not available,” he repeated. “’s what you said at my place.”

“Please sit,” Munakata replied, gesturing to the couch facing the fireplace.

“You call me over to break up with me, doc?” Mikoto sighed, frustration welling up inside him. Fucking Munakata-sensei and his fucking love of play. “I don’t like games. Not when Anna’s heart’s on the line too.”

Something flashed across that impassive countenance then, but it was gone before he could recognize it. Instead, the brunet merely squared himself up and commanded whatever pretension was left to him. “First, you and I are not together; therefore, we cannot break up.” He adjusted his glasses. “Second, I invited you to explain things, so if you could refrain from arriving at erroneous conclusions based on no evidence whatsoever, I should like to do just that.” A sigh. “Sit. Please.”

Mikoto took the indicated seat, eager to hear this so-called explanation. He wasn’t surprised when Munakata chose to sit across from him rather than beside, in a threadbare and especially ugly armchair that clashed with the room.

“The man in the picture was –  _is_  – my finance. Detective Habari Jin of the Metropolitan Police Department.”

The redhead’s fingers curled into the armrest. If his beautiful bastard of an instructor was engaged, then he damn well should have said so before he accepted Anna’s invitation to dinner. The other man wasn’t stupid. Not by a long shot. He knew Suoh was attracted to him and growing more attached with each successive day. He’d led the redhead on, dangling possibilities and fantasies before him like a fucked-up Pied Piper.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to get up and leave. He’d waited so long for Munakata to betray even an ounce of sentiment that he was willing to risk heartbreak just to see. To prove to himself that he wasn’t the only one who felt this… this all-encompassing electricity between them. So he stayed.

“I was a lonely child. I would be remiss if I did not commence my story there – my childhood. My intellect and abilities so outstripped others that I had trouble fitting in. I’d never made any real friends; any genuineness pretended towards me was done out of consideration for my elder brother, Taishi. He was always the friendly sort, and so people naturally flocked to him.” Here, he met Mikoto’s eyes and smiled, if in a broken manner. “Much like you, in fact. Graced with natural charisma.”

“Doc—”

“It’s Reisi,” Munakata interrupted. “To you, that is.”

Mikoto nodded, tonguing his reaction. He’d never expected this man – this ever-composed, ever-placid man to talk so openly about himself. But by the same token, he never expected that talking like so would bring Reisi such pain. And he was in pain, of that Suoh had no doubt. The timbre of his voice was shot through with regret and loss and wherever this story led, the redhead knew it wouldn’t be anywhere good.  _Maybe that’s why Anna likes him so much,_ he thought to himself.  _They’re both hurting._

“Jin was my first friend. We met in college – we were roommates, in fact.” Here he laughed. “We hated each other at first. I’d come back to the dorm to find empty takeout containers and dirty clothes littering the floor.”

Suoh smirked. “Never did learn to pick up after myself, either. Only do it now for Anna’s sake.”

Reisi nodded and continued. “But then, I noticed other things about him. How his eyes would light up when other first years came to him for advice. Or how he’d spend his time reading criminal law books. He said he wanted to be a lawyer, wanted to protect people. We even started watching police procedural dramas together. Eventually, those friendly movie nights became dates; we hardly noticed the feelings blooming between us until we found ourselves falling asleep in the same bed night after night. And so, my first friend became my first love.”

Mikoto smiled at the thought of a twenty-something Munakata clambering onto the same bunk as the man in the picture, a bowl of greasy popcorn between them and the glow from the television setting their faces alight in the dark. It was a good mental image, he found. The Reisi in his imagination seemed untroubled – lighter, somehow, as nonsensical as that sounded.

“He decided in our fourth year that being a lawyer might help people, but it would not protect. Not in the way Jin wished to do so. I remember that was our first fight – I felt, initially, such a career path was too dangerous. I did not want to lose him, you see. Given my solitary history, he had become my whole world. The loss would be too great, I thought. Unbearable. But at the same time, I admired his selflessness. I even had a mind to join him at the Academy, but I’d already been accepted to my PhD program with a sizable stipend. It would be easier, financially, to make a home for us if I continued along my planned career path. And so I went to graduate school while he became a police officer.”

And now the man had Mikoto’s rapt attention. He placed his tumbler of whisky to the side and leaned forward, absorbing Munakata’s every word.

Reisi, for his part, had closed his eyes. He, too, had set aside his drink. His hands trembled as they sat folded primly in his lap. Brow furrowed, lips bent, and Mikoto knew what was coming before he even spoke. “Something happened,” he breathed.

“It was a gunman. Severe cranial trauma.” Munakata didn’t open his eyes.

Suoh couldn’t help it, not when the man looked like he was being held together by spider’s silk and memories. He slinked forward, kneeling before the brunet and taking his shaking hands into his own. Saying nothing, he merely held Reisi’s hands and allowed his warmth to seep into the flesh. This was the only comfort he would be allowed to provide, he knew. Anything more, and Munakata’s remaining control would shatter. If that happened, he was sure he’d be asked to leave.

The professor took a deep breath. “He’s been in a coma for three years, Mikoto.”

And for all the times that Mikoto wished his gorgeous instructor would address him less formally, he had never wanted to hear his name fall from the man’s lips like  _that_.

Munakata rallied, “This is why—”

“You’re not available,” the redhead finished, breath ghosting against the fingers held against his mouth. “You’re still tied up.”  _Tied up in every way possible, too._ He pressed a quick kiss to the tips, committing the scent to memory. Ink and paper. Tea. And something a bit spicy and sweet at the same time that belonged solely to Munakata.  _There was never a chance for me,_ he realized.  _There’s no room for me here._

Reisi pulled his hands away, carefully wrapping his arms about himself. He was shuddering head to foot. At this distance, Mikoto to sense how much effort it was taking him to keep his composure. His guilt redoubled. If it was taking all this just for the man to  _talk_ , then maybe he didn’t need to. “Don’t,” he said finally. “Don’t do anything you don’t want. You don’t have to explain anymore. I’ll leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” the brunet answered firmly. “I  _want_ you. And I want  _this_ ,” he continued, amethyst eyes finally seeking out amber. He gestured between them. “But I—”

“—feel like shit for wantin’ me.”

Reisi managed a broken smirk. “That’s one way to articulate the guilt attendant to this desire, yes.” But his smile warmed as he leaned to card a chary hand through Mikoto’s hair. “I’m rather unpracticed at romance. As I said, I’ve never had need to be very discerning about my feelings. Jin could read me like one of my books, meaning that I never learned how properly to express sentiment, nor, in fact, how to contend with it when it overwhelms me.”

“Sound like you need a hug, sensei.”

A laugh, this time, though it was choked off. “It’s Reisi. And I don’t think a hug is going to help much.”

Shrugging, Mikoto just stood and threw his arms around the seated man, squeezing him in a vice hold and drawing him close. “Might help a little, though.” He stood there, awkwardly holding the other as long as he was permitted. 

Gently pushing the redhead back, Munakata adopted a mildly flustered demeanor. It was good, Suoh decided, to see him back in form. “Useless,” he murmured. “But appreciated nonetheless.”

Mikoto merely chuckled and resumed his seat on the floor, head pillowed against the hideous armrest.

“I don’t know what I ought to do,” the brunet said, fingers in soft, scarlet strands again. “It seems that over the last three years, my feelings for Jin have faded somewhat, although I love him still. At the same time, lately I’ve developed feelings for you.” He paused. “How can one person care for two individuals like so?”

Mikoto snorted.

Munakata’s voice betrayed a slight irritation when next he spoke. “What can possibly be humorous?”

“Just that you’re an idiot for such a smart guy,” Suoh retorted. “Obviously you  _can_ have feelings for both of us ‘cause you  _do._ You just don’t know what you wanna do about it. That’s why you’re all confused and shit.”

“To be fair, I haven’t much of a choice in the matter,” Reisi replied, voice tight. “He and I never married, so I am not the executor of his will nor his medical proxy. His family are terminating life support.” He sighed heavily. “Perhaps he never named me as proxy because he knew that I would never agree to such a thing.”

Mikoto sucked in a breath, nothing that  _his_  feelings were now confused. He should not, for example, feel any sort of relief upon learning that Reisi’s finace was going to die. He should be appropriately sad. But at the same time, if this opened up a chance for the two of them to explore a real relationship, then perhaps it  _was_  for the be—

No. No, he couldn’t think such things. He’d seen what death had done to Anna – how it left her hollowed out and haunted, how she’d stopped speaking for a year afterwards, how her smiles even now were tinged with heartbreak that he couldn’t fix. He didn’t want that for Munakata. He  _didn’t_. The man had known enough hell for a lifetime.

So why did this emotion clinging to him feel so much like hope?

“What are you gonna do?” he asked quietly, trying to piece together his own mind as the other had been attempting all night.  _Man, we’re fucked, aren’t we?_

Reisi stopped playing with Mikoto’s hair. “I don’t know.”


End file.
